


Love And Magic

by ZombiesAreGarbageAtKnitting



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Also random OCs to move the plot along, Angst, F/M, Fluff, For the prompt "Always/Forever", I guess it's a happy ending, Now it's 14 pages, Oops, This was going to be a short little drabble, krannaweek2019, late, mentions of lloyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombiesAreGarbageAtKnitting/pseuds/ZombiesAreGarbageAtKnitting
Summary: Kratos only knows of two things that last forever.
Relationships: Anna/Kratos Aurion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Love And Magic

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started writing this a long time ago, after ToS Chronicles came out. There's a scene translated if you go back to Anna's grave before the final battle with Kratos in your party. In it, Lloyd makes Kratos apologize to her for sacrificing himself to break the seal.  
> I loved that scene. It's a rare moment where we sort of get a feel for Anna's personality, despite the fact that she's dead. Anyway, that's what inspired this a long time ago. I finally finished it for Kranna Week, albeit a few days late.

_ I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, _ _   
_ _ Haunted by the ghost of you _

_ \--“The Night We Met” by Lord Huron-- _

* * *

Mithos, always the curious child, had once asked him a question during training. As they pair sat and rested, tired from their swordplay, he glanced up at the older man.

“Hey, Kratos, I got a question.”

Mithos was young, but he was smart. No doubt he’d read something earlier that day that had been nagging his overactive mind. “What is it?”

Mithos leaned against the tree and stretched his legs out with a wince. “Well, I was just wondering...about magic.”

“Magic? Well, I’d think your sister would be a better source for that,” he replied. “Or Yuan. Considering my magic comes from the aionis, I’m hardly an expert.”

Mithos rubbed his head. “Well, yeah, but I don’t think Martel would like me asking this one. It’s...kind of morbid.”

Kratos frowned as he rubbed his shoulders. “Well, go on then.”

“If a sorcerer cast a spell, then died...would the spell still stick around?” Mithos cocked his head. “I mean, a spell is just mana that’s been manipulated. But, if there’s no one left to manipulate it, will it still do the same stuff?”

“...Why are you so interested?” Kratos asked. “You’re young, healthy. Are you worried about the Summon Spirits if something happens to you?”

“Sort of.” Mithos grinned sheepishly. “Well, actually, not really. It’s...kind of selfish. I was just thinking that...when I die, I want to leave something behind. Something that’ll outlive me.”

“You’re right, this sort of talk would upset your sister. She’s got enough to worry about, she doesn’t need to think about your death.” Kratos tilted his head. “If you wish to be remembered, why not write a book about your life, or have a monument built?”

Mithos shrugged. “I don’t really want a book or anything like that,” he explained. “But...magic holds such great power, you know? And magic is one of the defining traits of being a half-elf. If anything’s going to represent me, well…it’ll be some kind of a spell.”

“Hmm…” Kratos sat down on the ground and Mithos followed suit. “I suppose that makes sense. However, you must remember, magic shouldn’t be used as decoration. It’s powerful and dangerous. To leave it behind after you die is to leave it unattended; a weapon in the wrong hands.”

“But what if I make my magic safe?” Mithos suggested. “You know, protected, so that no one can use it?”

“Hmph, how conceited. You trust that no one would be smart enough to break it?” Kratos pressed. Mithos made a sour face. “You’re very young, Mithos, but you’ve seen war. Tell me, is it truly worth hurting people, just to be remembered?”

“No, but...” Mithos folded his arms and leaned forward. “Just tell me. Is something like that possible?”

Kratos made a noise in his throat. “If done correctly, with enough emotion, power, and mana...yes, a spell would last long after its caster’s death.”

“How long exactly?” Mithos asked. Kratos raised an eyebrow. “Theoretically.”

“Theoretically? Hmph.” Kratos closed his eyes. “That’s not a question I’m equipped to answer. There are plenty of theories, but it’s not as though they can be tested.”

“Come on, Kratos,” Mithos said wryly. “I know you have an idea. You just don’t want to tell me.”

For a moment, Kratos hesitated. If he was honest, he really  _ didn’t _ want to give Mithos the answer. Finally, he sighed. Mithos was a smart child; if Kratos didn’t tell him, he’d just find the information another way.

“Magic lasts...forever.”

* * *

Derris Kharlan had thrived since its departure, released from the gravity of the newly reunited world. The small group of disgraced half-elves that had come with Kratos, the only remnants of Cruxis and the Desians, lived in Welgaia at first. He had overseen the removal of crystals and, slowly, he watched the angels lose their emptiness and regain souls that he had been almost certain had been lost for good. 

Then, as time marched on, the half-elves began to live real lives. They talked to and befriended one another. They married, asking Kratos to oversee their union. Babies were born, children grew, families formed. They planted their own world tree, to protect them.

The people built a home away from Welgaia, away from the bloody history that lived in those halls. At their request, Kratos went with them, leaving behind his own checkered past. They built a small town, with a school for the growing children, shops with herbs and potions, community gardens, and a small cottage on the outskirts, because they knew Kratos liked his privacy.

He looked older now, having thrown out his Exsphere, seemingly middle-aged. There were lines etched on his face, though his hair had not turned grey yet; his mother used to say that redheads went grey late. His gait was getting a bit slower and his bones would sometimes ache in the morning. His age was most obvious when he looked at his hands. The skin had gotten thinner and his bones and tendons were more noticeable. Never had he expected to look down and see an old man’s hands. 

Sometimes he mentally calculated how old Lloyd was. At first, it had been a good thought experiment: imagining Lloyd growing up, getting married, having children.

He’d stopped when the number got over 40. No reason to torture himself with it.

Still though, he was far from over-the-hill; he trained with some of the citizens of Derris-Kharlan in the morning, sharing his skills and keeping his mind and body strong. He was often asked for advice by the community leaders. Sometimes, the teachers called him in to give a history lesson to the students at the school. His evenings were spent alone, in his house, reading his old books.

And then, one day, a villager knocked on his door early. He was awake—he needed to sleep now, but he always woke up early—and when he opened it, said breathlessly, “Mr. Aurion, you need to come to the town square. Right now. Please. It’s an emergency.”

So Kratos grabbed his cloak and followed the young man—Almen was his name—to the middle of town, where most of the villagers were huddle around, looking worried.

“What has happened?” he asked. An elder stepped forward, his still-young face stern and worried. “Shad? What’s going on?”

“A group of boys, the younger ones, those three with the slingshots.” Kratos nodded, recognizing immediately the troublemakers he knew of.

“Keo, Elg, and Siro. I know them.” He noticed that Keo’s mother was pale and stricken. “Are they alright?”

“They disappeared this morning. Some of the schoolchildren said that they were going to the Old Castle.”

Kratos stilled. Vinheim had been uninhabited since Mithos’ death, but it still held monsters and demons. “They’re in danger,” he said firmly.

“Yes,” Shad agreed. “We need someone to go search for them. They could be hurt, or even killed.”

Before anyone could reply, Kratos nodded. “I will do it.”

* * *

To get to Vinheim, the boys would have to go through Welgaia. Kratos knew the half-elves didn’t like to go there. It was too empty, too unsettling. Kratos, who had lived there for millennia, had no such qualms. 

Welgaia was largely the same. It had been built to last for 4000 years, it could certainly last a few decades more without falling into disrepair. The strange, unnatural sterility was still in place, as well as the bright lights that already were giving him a headache. Kratos was certain that some of the machines probably needed to be fixed—Yuan had always maintained them—but the majority were still lit up and working properly. 

Kratos headed towards the teleporter that led to Vinheim. It was glowing, already activated. He stepped into it, the familiar tingle around him. When he reappeared, in the entry hall of the castle, he glanced around.

The castle was exactly as it had been the last time he’d seen it. The candles, lit with magic, burned dimly through the dark and dusty palace. He began to look around, searching for traces of life.

It didn’t take him long to find the boys. Their giggling and whispers echoed off the stone around them. Kratos found them in one of the many studies on the upper floors, a dimly lit room with books lining the walls. They were sitting in a huddle, playing with a deck of ancient cards. Quite literally, Kratos realized. The writing on them was ancient Angelic, so Kratos knew they must have found the cards in the castle.

“What are you three doing here?” he demanded. Watching all of them nearly jump out of their skin was satisfying. “Your parents are worried sick. The town is practically at a stand still. Have you any idea what dangers lurk here?”

The boys shuffled about, mumbling apologies, but Kratos had no time.

“Go. Now.” He may have gotten older, but he certainly hadn’t gotten less scary. The three boys quickly gathered up their cards and went towards the exit, glancing over their shoulders worriedly as Kratos glared after them. “Hurry. Don’t dawdle.”

Kratos kept an eye out the door, watching the boys go down the steps. Once he heard the teleporter activate, he sighed and sat down on the couch. 

How long had it been since he’d had to chase down misbehaving children? Well...perhaps it wasn’t so long ago, he thought wryly. The image of Lloyd and his friends, chagrined at being caught goofing around, came to his mind. He smiled slightly and leaned back, closing his eyes.

After a few minutes, Kratos stood and started down the stairs after the children. One of his legs ached, an old injury flaring up after all these years, and he needed to stretch it. He walked through the halls of the castle and back into Welgaia.

It was there that he heard a voice.

Mithos. Not Yggdrasill, but Mithos, the boy who Kratos had loved so much. 

Mithos was calling for him. After a split second of hesitation, Kratos followed the voice.

His heart raced as he walked along the paths. Was it actually Mithos, he wondered, or just a shadow? He didn’t know which answer he preferred.

Eventually, the voice led him to one of the atriums, a large empty room with several elevators off to the side. There, in the center of the room, was a glowing blue magic circle, familiar to Kratos.

Before him was the Derris Emblem.

Lloyd had wanted to keep the Emblem with him, but both Kratos and Raine insisted it go back to Derris-Kharlan. 

“Spells can last long after their caster is dead, Lloyd,” she told him. “Mithos’ magic is still in effect. He could torment you with the Emblem for years to come, even drive you insane.”

“But then Kratos shouldn’t keep it around either!” Lloyd argued. “It’s dangerous no matter where it is.”

Both adults hesitated, neither wanting to admit the truth: that Kratos’ sanity was worth a lot less than Lloyd’s. However, all Kratos said was, “It will be much less dangerous if we let it remain on Derris-Kharlan. You wish for things to be peaceful down here, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Lloyd rubbed the back of his head. “I want it peaceful up there, too.”

Kratos gave him a small smile. “I promise, Lloyd, no harm will come to anyone on Derris-Kharlan.”

True to his word, Kratos had left the Derris Emblem in the Welgaia, where no one would dare to touch it. Or, so he had thought.

The boys hadn’t activated it, he realized. They hadn’t gone this far into Welgaia. No, this was the remnants of Mithos’ magic, the power and emotion he’d felt surviving his own soul.

It both scared and intrigued Kratos. On one hand, Mithos had made the Emblem his strongest security device; it was designed to ward off intruders with their own illusions and darkness. On the other hand, Kratos also knew that it couldn’t remain active. He would never be able to forgive himself if one of those same boys found it.

He stepped into the magic circle, ready to deal with whatever he had to. If it put an end to any of Mithos’ madness, he would do it.

The mana swirled into a vapor, the strange power that came from it seeping into his bones. Kratos steadied himself, waiting for the illusion of Lloyd that had appeared last time.

Instead, however, he found himself face to face with a woman. A woman with short brown hair, a simple dress, and a cheshire cat grin.

“A-Anna?” he whispered. He heard his sword hit the floor; he was in too much shock to worry about it.

“Well, hi there.” Her thin fingers wiggled at him, the gesture familiar and comforting. “It’s been a while, Kratos Aurion.”

She looked as perfect as the day he’d met her. She hunched her shoulders and reached her hand out. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re afraid to hold my hand!”

He hesitated, then reached out. He half-expected for his hand to phase through her, but Mithos had always been thorough: the illusion was solid, just as his memories allowed. He could feel her warm skin against his as he slid his hand into hers.

“I…” He blinked at her as she squeezed his hand. “You...aren’t real.”

At first, she opened her mouth to argue. Then, she suddenly sighed, exasperated. “Does it matter? I’m all you’ve got...And I’m here, real enough for you.”

She slunk closer to him, her hands roaming along his chest. She leaned up and kissed him.

Kratos felt his breath quicken. Her lips were as soft as Anna’s, as sweet as honey. He pulled her closer to him and relished in her warmth. Finally, he let her go.

“I…” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing. This is not real.”

Anna rolled her eyes. She sat down, cross-legged just like she always used to. She looked up expectantly and crooked her finger at him. “Come on. We have some catching up to do.”

* * *

They sat together for hours, simply holding hands and talking. Kratos told her everything, from his adventures with Lloyd to his current life on Derris-Kharlan. She cracked jokes and laughed, her head tilting back just like it always had. She spoke quickly when she got excited, her voice stuttering just like it had when she’d been alive. The gap in her teeth was there, the same as it had always been.

He pushed back when his brain said that she was just an illusion, that she was nothing more than a pretty spectrum of mana, based on his memory. 

He ignored when a voice in his head reminded him that she wasn’t really there, that the warmth of her hand wasn’t real warmth, but an old feeling from decades ago.

He even fought back against the realization, that even if she talked back, all he was doing was talking to himself.

* * *

Kratos didn’t return home until well after the village had gone to sleep. Derris-Kharlan had no night and day; it was lit by the flickering fire of magic. But it did have time, and time said that it was very well past midnight. As Kratos returned to his house, he fell into bed and sighed, content.

He awoke the next morning to an apology letter, pinned to the door, from the boys who had run away. He smiled at it and set it aside in a desk drawer, to be forgotten and re-found one day. He made his coffee and breakfast, did his morning exercises, stretched the muscle in his weak calf. All the normal, regular things that had become a part of his routine.

Except that now, he was thinking of Anna. Of all the things he wanted to say to her, all the conversations he wanted to have.

His mind told him it was just the Derris Emblem. Logically, he knew the truth.

This Anna wasn’t Anna at all. She was an illusion that resided in his heart, his deepest desire and sweetest secret. 

And he was alright with that.

* * *

When she appeared again, Anna looked a bit different. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top, and her hair was tied back in a braid. Kratos smiled when he saw her; she grinned back, reaching for him.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” she gushed. “I...I was actually worried that you wouldn’t come back.”

“Of course I did,” he said softly. “I wanted to see you again.”

Her smile broadened. “I missed you, Kratos.”

“I...I missed you, too.” He reached out, hesitantly, to draw her into his arms. He was surprised, once again, that she felt solid enough to hold. “I missed you. More than you’ll ever know.”

It felt...wrong, to be holding her again. His mind rebelled against the idea, that Anna was dead, buried, gone. And yet…

He couldn’t bring himself to care. 

She pulled away, fondly rubbing his shoulder as she did so, just as he remembered she used to do. He tilted his head as she settled on the ground, legs crossed and waiting for him.

He sat down with her, reaching out to take her hand as he did so. She looked perfect, radiant and beautiful. “So,” she said cheerfully, “Tell me about Lloyd. What’s he like?”

Kratos squeezed her hand. “Our son…you’d be proud of him.”

* * *

The weeks passed. Kratos was spending more and more time in Welgaia, talking to Anna. Sometimes, they talked about Lloyd and his friends, the journey Kratos had taken, even menial things like Kratos’ everyday routines and the villagers’ lives. 

Sometimes, she didn’t speak, just sat leaning against him. They sat in a silence that never felt uncomfortable. 

Some days, she seemed a bit upset, almost sad. She never told him what she was sad about, even though he begged her to trust him.

“It’s not important,” she would insist. “Just...let’s talk about something else, okay?”

He would drop it, but he feared that it meant she was pulling away from him. That she wanted to rest in peace, not be a part of his still-living fantasties. He told her, often, that she didn’t have to see him if she didn’t want to. That he understood if she wanted to rest.

However, she always appeared before him.

Kratos went to Welgaia every day, for several hours. He would go in the evenings and return after dark, claiming he was doing research and gathering information from the books that remained. 

The villagers fretted over him. When he would leave for Derris-Kharlan, he often heard whispered prayers of safety and wishes for him to return soon. The children were fond of asking him where he was going, was he coming back soon, he was coming back, right?

Several weeks in, Shad visited one day, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a somber expression on his face.

“You know how dangerous it is,” he told Kratos. “Derris-Kharlan is our haven, our safe place, yes; but Welgaia is still the place of horrors it once was. It is not safe to go there every day.”

“I may be older,” Kratos responded, “but I am not incapable. I can fight off the monsters there.”

“I’m not talking about the monsters that currently reside there,” Shad said sadly. “Don’t forget, Kratos, I was a Desian not so long ago. I remember Yggdrasill very well.”

“Are you saying I should be afraid of his ghost?” Kratos asked brusquely. “How foolish.”

“...You are a smart man, Kratos Aurion,” Shad said quietly. “But intelligence often brings overconfidence. And overconfidence…”

“...Breeds carelessness.” Kratos folded his arms. “I know my own words, Shad.”

“Then forgive me, but I don’t see how you are ignoring the warning signs.” Shad leaned forward. “Magic leaves traces, even though the man who controls it is gone. Yggdrasill’s ghost haunts Welgaia in the emotion and spells he left behind. That is what I fear; not some incorporeal spirit.”

Kratos didn’t respond. Shad sighed. 

“I see that whatever it is that pulls you to Welgaia is much too strong for me to counter. Just remember, Kratos, that you are not bound and chained to your past. That is why we started over, here, in this village. So that we would be free to remember the past without being beholden to it.”

“This is not about my past,” Kratos said abruptly. “This is about...it’s nothing.”

He stood and went to the door, opening it and gesturing out. “I think you should leave, Shad,” he said quietly. “I would like to be alone.”

The elder did as Kratos asked, heading for the door. He hesitated, then told Kratos, “I think alone is the last thing you should be right now.”

* * *

But he wasn’t alone, Kratos told himself. He had Anna.

“...Do you love me?” he asked her. She laughed. “What’s funny?”

“You are,” she teased. “Of course I love you, Kratos.”

They were lying together again, in the Derris Emblem, holding hands. They were staring up at a sky that held unfamiliar stars. They hadn’t been talking much today; nothing to say, he supposed. So he’d decided to ask the question that had been bothering him.

“Even after all this time? After everything I’ve done?”

“Yep!” she said brightly. He chuckled at the enthusiasm.

He’d spent every day with her so far, leaving the village earlier, eager to see her once again. 

But she wanted more.

He was staying later and later, giving in as Anna begged him to stay, just a few more minutes. 

“Please,” she would say. “Please, don’t go. I’m lonely without you.”

And he would stay, because he was lonely, too.

* * *

Magic might last forever, but it is not infallible. Spells can be broken and illusions can be seen through.

One night, Kratos kissed her head and whispered, “I have to go.”

They both stood up as he slipped on his cloak. Before he left the circle, she grabbed his sleeve and tugged him back towards her.

“You should stay here,” she said softly. Kratos’ lips quirked up.

“I’ll stay for a few minutes, but it’s nearing sunrise.” Spirits, he was actually feeling exhausted. How long had it been since he’d felt that physical sensation?

“No, I mean…” Anna sat up, looking over at him. “You should stay here. For good.”

“Anna. I live in the village, with the half-elves.”

Her smile faltered. “But you could stay here. I mean, you could buy things at the village and visit with them, like you do me. Except instead of living there, you could just...stay here.”

“In Welgaia?” Kratos frowned as he glanced around. “It’s...this place isn’t habitable. It’s overrun with monsters.”

“Oh, come on, a few measly monsters? Please,” she teased him. “You’ll be fine.

“Anna.” He sighed. “I have to go back home. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Her face went oddly blank and she turned away from him. “...Must be nice. You know, to have a home.”

“Anna…” He reached out, but she brushed his hand away. “I’m sorry, but I have to go back to the village. This place...I don’t belong here.”

“And I do?”

“No...no, of course not-!”

Anna spun back around and bared her teeth at him. “ _ You killed me.” _

Kratos blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said harshly, her voice becoming more guttural. “You killed me, Kratos. The least you could do is stay here with me.”

“...No. No, I can’t…” He closed his eyes. “I’ll be back, I promise. But...I have to go.”

“I remember it,” she hissed. She was circling him now, glaring at him with raw hatred. “I remember what it’s like to die. I remember your sword, cutting into me. I remember how it felt to fall down that cliff.”

She was close to him now, huffing out air in anger. “Do you want to know, Kratos? Do you want to know how it feels to die?”

He stepped away from her, turning away. “Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

“It’s horrific. It’s painful. It’s a terrifying void, pulling down into darkness. It’s eternal. There is no heaven or hell, just the abyss.”

Anna was sounding absolutely demonic now. Kratos tried to back up, get out of the circle, but Anna suddenly disappeared and reappeared behind him.

“You’re  _ disgusting _ ,” she growled. “A monster.”

“I…” He inhaled sharply. “I...I’m sorry…”

“ _ Are you?! _ ” she shrieked. “Are you sorry, Kratos? Because if you were really sorry...you’d just end it.”

“...What?” he whispered. “What are you saying?”

“You should just give up, Kratos. Go on. I know you think about it sometimes. All that guilt gets to you, huh?” 

Her face changed, smoothing out into a sweet, gentle smile. “And just think, Kratos,” she said softly.

She reached out. Kratos stared at her, forgetting that she was an illusion. Wondering how she knew him so well when he never spoke about his guilt or self-loathing.

Anna reached out and took his hand, the warmth making him feel better. She squeezed it. “If you kill yourself,” she said, “we could be together. Just you and me, Kratos.”

“Anna...I...I can’t just…”

“Why not?” she asked insistently. “Lloyd is back home, where he belongs. He has Dirk and all his friends. Mithos is dead. Who are you living for?”

For a moment, just a moment, as she held his hand, Kratos wondered if she wasn’t right. He wasn’t needed anymore in Derris-Kharlan; the half-elves would be fine. Lloyd was taken care of, just as Anna said, with his own family surrounding him. He had no attachments left. What, exactly, was his reason for living?

He would get to see Anna again. That alone made the prospect of death less bleak.

“We could have what we used to,” she coaxed. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek against his chest. “We could sit around the table and talk. We could cook dinner together. We could even make love.”

That sounded pretty great, now that Kratos thought about it. He could hold Anna again, talk to her, kiss her. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, ready to give in.

_ Apologize to Mom. _

He suddenly heard Lloyd’s voice, echoing in the dark recesses of his mind.

_ Right. Whatever the reason, I took her life. _

“One last punishment.” Anna felt so warm and alive in his arms. “Then you’ll be free.”

_No, not for that! Apologize for what you did to get Origin released._ _For putting yourself in danger to help us._

“It’s alright, Kratos,” Anna murmured. “I forgive you.”

_ She must have been worried sick, looking down on that. _

The illusion broke.

“...You are not my Anna.”

He said it with such firmness that it caught her off-guard, stinging her. “Um, excuse me?”

She leaned back from him, but her grip on his arms tightened. He jerked away, out of her arms.

“You’re an illusion, created by Mithos and powered by mana.” He folded his arms and glared at her. “You are nothing but a fake, a shadow of the woman I love.”

He didn’t want to touch her again, afraid that he would be pulled back into the madness of his own mind. Instead, he turned away. “I have to go. If I truly wish to move on with life and atone for my sins...I must leave.”

“...You loved me,” she accused. “And you’re just going to throw me away.”

“No,” he corrected. “I  _ love  _ Anna. And therein lies the difference. I’ll always love her; always have, always will. I refuse to believe in a pale imitation.” He stepped towards the edge of the circle. “My Anna never gave anything up. She never gave up hope, never gave in to her own darkness.” He hesitated, shame making him hide his face. “But I gave into mine. I gave up and floated along, following without any will to fight.”

Behind him, he thought he heard Anna laugh coldly. He continued, “That’s how I know you’re not Anna, just the darkness that dwells in my heart. You’re not Anna. You’re me.”

Kratos spun around, expecting to see Anna one last time.

Instead, he found himself face to face with his own likeness.

“...Always?” his mimic whispered. “Is that true? Does anything last forever?”

Kratos’ hands shook as his own image circled him like a vulture. Suddenly, he realized that the mana around him had become thick, an overwhelming amount of power building. It was becoming a struggle to move. 

“She doesn’t love you anymore,” the illusion hissed. “She’s dead, and no one else will love you like her.”

“And I don’t care.” That thought alone was freeing, Kratos realized.  _ Remember the past, without being beholden to it. _ “Anna loved me when she was here, and the love she left behind lives within  _ me _ .” 

He stepped closer to his mirror image, who flinched and took a step back. “Even if she is dead,” he continued, “I will always love Anna. It doesn’t matter if  _ you _ think she doesn’t feel the same.  _ I  _ do.”

As if he were made of glass, the image started to crack. Lines of light fracturing across his body. Kratos stepped even closer.

“The darkness that lies in my heart, in my soul, tries to convince me otherwise. But I know the truth.” He inhaled deeply. “And so do you.”

The image shattered. Kratos felt the pain of pure mana run through his body. He fell as the circle around him started to flicker and, finally, went dark.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, collapsed in pain. It could have been minutes, or hours. His whole body ached, as if he had just fought an entire army. He tried to stand, but his knees shook too hard. He fell back down.

Darkness fogged his vision. He fell into it, allowing unconsciousness to swallow him.

* * *

“Mr. Kratos! Mr. Kratos, are you okay?”

“Here, dump some water on him! It’ll wake him up!”

“Gah! Keo, don’t drip it on me!”

Kratos woke with a start as cold water splashed over his face. Gasping, he sat up.

Keo, Elg, and Siro: the three boys who were always getting into trouble. They were huddled around him, staring down and trying to wake him.

How long had it been?

“Mr. Kratos! You’re alive!” Keo sounded revlieved. “We were worried.”

“Yeah, Elder Shad said you must have gotten into trouble,” Siro added. “No one’s seen you for, like, ever!”

“It’s only been a day,” Elg corrected, shoving the other boy. “Mr. Kratos, were you attacked?”

“N-no,” Kratos told him. “No, I just...you three shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous.”

He stood up, his knees shaking. Had he really been gone for so long? Glancing around, he realized the Derris Emblem was dark. Evidently, Mithos’ most lasting feeling had been to punish Kratos, and no one else.

“Be careful!” Elg said. “We were really worried about you!”

“...Boys. Thank you.” He didn’t know quite what else to say, so instead, he just nodded. “We’d best get home. Come on.”

They started back through Welgaia. Kratos was exhausted, though he didn’t want to show it. His legs ached and his head pounded with every step. Finally, his pride lost the battle, and he said, “Boys, let’s just take a break.”

“You got it!” they chirped in unison. Kratos smiled as they sat down in a circle and started to chitchat. He sat off to the side and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Hey, is that candy?” Siro asked. “Gimme some!”

“Hey, that’s not how you ask!” Keo said back. “Talk to me nice.”

While the two boys bickered about the candy, Elg sidled up to Kratos. “Um, Mr. Kratos?”

“Hmm? Yes, Elg?” He glanced down at the boy. He looked nervous, shuffling his shoes on the ground. “Is something wrong?”

“When we were looking around before,” he said quietly, “we found some cards and stuff in a desk. But we also found something that...I think it belongs to you.”

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of papers. He held them out for Kratos to take. 

It was a stack of envelopes, tied together with a leather cord. As Kratos untied them, he gasped in shock.

His name was written on the outside of each envelope, in curvy script that was as familiar as his own. 

_ Anna. _

His mind flashed back, all those years ago. When he would go on jobs that took him away from her, travelling for several days, she would leave him notes and letters in his pack. Sometimes it was just a few words, a reminder that she loved him, telling him to be careful and return home safe. Sometimes, it was a long, poem-like expression of her love. Sometimes it was just a heart drawn on a piece of paper for him.

He’d forgotten about them. He’d kept them in his pack, tucked at the very bottom. Yggdrasill must have taken them after that day, he realized. When Kratos had been taken back to Cruxis, so distraught and out of his mind with grief, he had assumed his belongings were lost on the cliffs.

But, no; Yggdrasill must have taken it. Stashed it away, gone through it, never given it back. And now here they were, gifted back by circumstances he never could have forseen.

“Elg...I don’t know what to say…”

“So it is yours?” he said eagerly. “Good. We were worried that it might have been something bad.”

“No, it’s…” He held the letters to his chest and smiled down at the boy. “These are very precious to me. Thank you.”

Elg went off to go beg for some candy, while Kratos stared at the treasure in his hands. He waited a few more minutes, gently flipping through the old letters as the boys prattled on. Finally, he called out, “Boys, are you ready? We don’t have time to dawdle.”

“You’re the one who wanted to rest,” Keo grumbled, but no one paid him any attention. Kratos slid the letters into his pack and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

“Then let’s go.”

* * *

The villagers, apparently, had been more worried about Kratos than the young charges who found him. Shad ran to him, staff at the ready. 

“Are you injured?” he asked anxiously. Kratos shook his head. “Are you sure?”

“Quite so. Check the boys, though they seem to be fine.” Shad did as commanded, crouching down to check for cuts and bruises. Kratos, meanwhile, exhaled and started for his home.

A few minutes later, as he approached the path that led to the cottage, Shad caught up to him. 

“Kratos. I’d like to speak with you.”

Kratos stopped. He was still tired, though he didn’t have that mind-numbing exhaustion that came after the Derris-Emblem. “Very well. Let’s talk.”

Shad sighed heavily. “You disappeared for almost two days. We were preparing to send out a search party.”

“I...apologize for making you worry,” Kratos told him. “That was never my intention.”

“So? Did you find the answers you were looking for?” Shad asked. “In Derris-Kharlan?”

Kratos gave him a curious look. “How do you know I was looking for answers?”

“A man doesn’t go searching if he isn’t looking for something.”

“...” Finally, Kratos said, “Yes, though it was only when I stopped looking that I found it.”

“Isn’t that how it always is,” Shad said wryly. “Well, I’m glad you’re back, at any rate.”

“Me, too,” Kratos said, opening the door to his cottage. “Me too.”

* * *

When he was finally ready, that night before sunset, Kratos pulled out the letters.

They were old and fragile, but his fingers were deft enough that he didn’t tear the paper. For a few moments, he just held them, remembering the woman who had written them. The  _ actual  _ woman, not some memory or illusion. The same woman whose handwriting was slanted, whose palms were calloused by rough work and knives. The woman who had given him a child, who had held and fed and sang the child to sleep. The woman who laughed and joked and kissed and loved.

Finally, he opened up one of the letters.

It was a short one, simply a reminder to take care, that she and Lloyd were waiting for him to return safely. And at the bottom, scrawled in her tidy handwriting, there it was.

_ Love always, Anna _

If ever there was a sign, there it was. He flipped to the next letter. There, at the end.

_ Love always, Anna. _

_ Love always. _

_ Love always. _

_ Always. _

_ Always. _


End file.
